


pour down your rain

by 10softbot



Series: thirsty [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15556605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/pseuds/10softbot
Summary: Taeyong really walked in and messed it all up, changed his world vision for better and for worse and Doyoung isn’t sure what is right or wrong for him anymore. What he does know is that he wants Taeyong to stay the night.





	pour down your rain

**Author's Note:**

> don't be fooled by the amount of words, this is solely pwp
> 
>  **WARNINGS:** degradation, bondage, knife play, blood play, choking, erotic asphyxia, bruising, deepthroating, messy blowjobs, slapping, rimming, biting, overstimulation, crying, mentioned substance addiction, mentioned self-harm. keep it in mind all of this is a risk-aware consensual kink and that both of them are consenting adults partaking in it. if any of this makes you uncomfortable or triggers you do not read it for your own sake.
> 
> do not repost without permission.

Doyoung clinks the ice against his half-empty glass before downing the rest of his drink. It’s a quarter past two and the way the drink doesn’t warm him up even the slightest bit annoys him to no end, having seen one too many people come and go, too drunk to stand on their feet. He ditched his bandmates after their gig ended at eleven and had been at the bar since, ordering the strongest drinks that somehow still have no effect on him. He hadn’t seen Taeyong in the alley before of after his gig that night and he doesn’t know why that sets him off so much.

He orders a shot of tequila instead this time, watches as the glass gets filled and downs it as soon as it’s handed to him, no lime or salt to go with it because he just needs to feel something. The door to the bar dings open and, from the corner of his eye, he watches as someone approaches him and orders a shot of absinthe. By the blurry pink locks and overly black clothes, he doesn’t need to check who the owner of the voice is, and for the first time that night he feels the alcohol burn down his chest.

“Hey there, big head” the voice says and Doyoung turns to the voice in time to see Taeyong chug his sixty-five percent shot without flinching. The boy turns to him, a grin of his face and Doyoung hates it so much. He doesn’t reply, stares at him with intent and he can see something in Taeyong’s eyes shift. “You look awful today.”

“I didn’t see you earlier,” he says after a minute, brain fuzzy and tongue heavy in his mouth. Taeyong shifts in place, orders another shot and chugs it again without sparing Doyoung a glance.

“What? Did you miss me?” Taeyong laughs it off, plays with the glass in his hand and the way he avoids looking at him and how strong he reeks of cigarettes and alcohol tells Doyoung something is off.

“What is going on?” Doyoung presses on, his tipsy brain unable to acknowledge how hard Taeyong tries to dodge the topic, his messed up state five minutes after walking into the bar enough telling that something is, in fact, going on.

“Why do you _care?_ ” he yells this time, startles Doyoung when the glass shatters in his hand. He quickly lets go of the shards, drops it at the bar and promptly ignores the bartender asking him if he is alright.

It takes a minute for Doyoung to process what is going on, mostly due to his intoxication but also because Taeyong is shaking, blood pooling and dripping from his hands onto his boots and the floor while he just stares at it, unmoving.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Doyoung hooks two fingers into a hole on his shirt and tears the fabric apart, orders a glass of vodka and pours it on the wounds as soon as the bartender hands it to him. Taeyong tries to pull away when he grips him by the wrist and Doyoung actually hates to feel how bad he shakes as he wraps the fabric around his hand.

Taeyong grabs him by the shirt, pulls him in and smashes their lips together, and it’s so desperate Doyoung pities him for a moment. He knows if he indulges him on even for a second he is going to find a way to avoid the topic, and he also knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself even if he wanted with how intoxicating Taeyong can be. So he just stands there, ignoring each one of Taeyong’s attempts to slip his tongue into his mouth and his hand down his pants for the sake of not fucking both of them up even further.

“ _Fine_ ,” Taeyong pushes him away, brows furrowed in anger and the way his hand closes into a fist makes Doyoung think he is ready to throw a punch his way, but he doesn’t. “You wanna know what the fuck is wrong?” He takes a shaky breath and Doyoung sits back on his stool, watching him.

“Everything is wrong, Doyoung. My entire fucking life” he gestures vaguely at the air, “is wrong. Switching from cutting to being addicted to drinking and smoking when I’m barely twenty-three just to keep my anxiety and clinical depression at bay is wrong. You know what else is wrong?”

Doyoung doesn’t reply, doesn’t feel like it’s something the other actually wants a reply to and just watches him as he takes a deep, shaky breath.

“No matter how much I fucking _love_ playing the bass I shouldn’t have been fucking forced to pursue this at an age I was supposed to be out with friends and, I don’t know, falling in love or some shit. I’m not ungrateful for what I have but this is so goddamn wrong. And my family,” he pauses, tilts his head back for a moment and when he looks Doyoung in the eyes Doyoung can see his eyes getting red. “My father just fucking _loves_ reminding me how dirty and worthless I am.”

“Taeyong, you’re not–”

“Because he thinks I keep fucking around, sleeping with someone different every time we have a gig.” Doyoung watches him reach inside his jacket, take a crumbled piece of paper out and throw it right at his face. He doesn’t open it. “He makes me get tested every three fucking months because he says I’m filthy, when the only person I ever sleep with is you. Well, surprise bitch, it’s negative.”

“Hey, listen–”

“Now can you, for fuck’s sake,” he tightens his fist and Doyoung can see the blood seep through the fabric around it, “either fucking kiss me or shoot me dead or something.”

Doyoung reaches out, pulls him closer by the hem of his shirt and between his spread legs. When he presses their lips together, Taeyong instantly licks along his bottom lip to be let in and, this time, Doyoung lets him. He’s still shaking, desperate, and Doyoung lets him take control because only he knows what and how much he needs it.

It’s weird and unfamiliar and Doyoung soon realizes Taeyong doesn’t really know what the fuck he himself wants, hand still balled into a fist at his side. Doyoung’s hands go from the hem of his shirt to his waist and his neck to pull him closer and down for better access. Taeyong tastes like straight vodka and the usual cigarette, only that it’s worse today and it makes Doyoung wonder just for how long he’s been keeping it in.

“I think–” he tries, catching his breath, a string of saliva connecting their lips and his heart skips a beat when he looks up at Taeyong, disheveled and overall just an entire mess. “I think we should go back to my apartment, you shouldn’t be here.”

 

The drive back to his apartment is a challenge, his system sobering him up as Taeyong gets even more restless, unable to keep his hands to himself, either gripping Doyoung by the hair to pull him in for a kiss or trying to undo the button of his jeans to get into his pants. All Doyoung can do is pray that the taxi driver isn’t looking at them in the back seat and that Taeyong won’t throw up on the five-minute ride it takes to get to his apartment, because he is too broke to pay for a car wash to some stranger.

It is either the fact that he wasn’t all that tipsy to begin with or the need to keep Taeyong in check that sobers him up entirely by the time they are at his door, his fingers typing the password in with far too much clarity for someone who had been drinking all night. Taeyong is a mess, trips on his own feet while trying to toe his boots off and Doyoung has to hold him by the shirt so he doesn’t fall face first to the floor.

Taeyong lets himself be pulled back up, turns on his heels when he feels he is good enough to go and immediately locks his lips with Doyoung. It’s not as rushed this time but still too messy, Doyoung’s tongue buzzing with every brush of Taeyong’s against him, fingers finding their way to the collar of his leather jacket to keep him in place.

He lets himself be pushed against the wall, figures Taeyong needs to feel some sort of control over something, and the boy is quick to rid Doyoung of his jacket. Taeyong’s hands are cold against his biceps and he instinctively reaches up to hold them in an attempt to warm him up. Taeyong moans into his mouth and the noise goes straight to his dick, makes his head spin when the elder presses his knee against his crotch.

He parts their kiss for a moment, the sight of Taeyong looking so fucked up with his hair all over the place and spit-covered chin getting him so hard it hurts.

“Bed,” he breathes, commands, and Taeyong is quick to follow just like he does every time Doyoung bosses him around. He’s figured a long time ago Taeyong gets off to it; being ordered around, following commands despite being so bratty, being degraded and talked down to. He lets Taeyong go ahead, takes a moment to calm himself down and get some water in the kitchen.

His heart feels like a million bricks in his chest as the words said at the bar flash back into his brain, but the soft mewls and moans coming from his room makes him forget about it in no time. He walks in on Taeyong fully undressed, sprawled on his bed with his good hand wrapped around his cock. Doyoung undresses himself, thinks Taeyong hasn’t noticed his presence until the boy throws something at him.

“What–” Doyoung cuts himself off, playing with the object in his hands. He is pretty sure he knows what it is but doesn’t think Taeyong would have the nerve to.

“It’s my pocket knife,” the elder replies, breathless from getting himself off. His movements halt and he looks at Doyoung, dark, half-lidded eyes boring holes into him. “It’s sterilized, you can just do it.”

“Uh,” he is unsure of what to say, clicks the knife open and watches as the sharp blade shines right up at him. “Yeah but – do I… I’m guessing you’re fine with being tied up seeing as you just handed me _this_. I’ll get the rope.”

Tying Taeyong up is easier than he thought, the ever so annoying and extremely bratty boy intently listening to him when he tells him to sit up and bring his knees up to his chest. The red rope looks stunning against his skin, the meticulous knotting tied in pretty diamond shapes. He has his arms tied up to his legs, leaving him unable to move and Doyoung can feel drops of precum drip from his dick at the sight.

Taeyong tests his movements, tries to unfold his legs and lift his arms from the position he’s in but Doyoung knows he’s done a great job when all he manages to do is whimper when he finds himself trapped in that position. Doyoung feels his mouth water, moves back closer to the boy and the way he bats his lashes at him has Doyoung too close to losing it. He combs his fingers through Taeyong’s locks, pets him twice before unfolding a black blindfold and slipping it around his head.

The fabric is soft but opaque enough to not let Taeyong see anything through it, and the way he nervously licks his lips and clenches his fists lets Doyoung know it is more than enough. He is still sitting up and Doyoung takes a moment to appreciate him, tied up in the middle of his bed, blindfolded, completely at his service for good and for worse. _Pretty fucked up_ , Doyoung thinks to himself as he reaches for the pocket knife again.

The blade is equally as black as the handle, shiny and sharp enough to tear nearly everything apart. Doyoung tries it against his palm, touches the dull side to his skin first and slowly twists it around. It takes about two seconds of pressing down for it to tear his skin apart and he quickly lifts it up, licks the thin wound to prevent it from bleeding too much.

“Safe word,” he says from where he stands, voice firm as he watches Taeyong over. The other shifts in place, straightens out his back.

“Grass to keep going, crimson to stop.”

“And if that fails?” Doyoung can see the boy’s chest twitch when he takes a deep breath.

“Two taps on you. Can we just get _going?_ ”

He moves behind Taeyong, the bed dipping with his weight and making the other nearly lose his balance. He bends down to his ear and, with his free hand, reaches around to grab him by the neck. His hold on him isn’t as much of a chokehold but still prevents him from breathing, and when Doyoung speaks to him, his voice is barely a whisper.

“Don’t move.”

Doyoung watches as Taeyong’s body trembles in anticipation. He has certainly done this before but never with Taeyong, and he has to swallow down his own excitement in order to keep a firm grip on the handle. He gently but firmly presses the dull edge to the boy’s shoulder blades, the cold steel making him gasp and it goes straight to Doyoung’s dick. Doyoung tightens his grip around his neck, glides the blade across the smooth skin before slowly turning it around and he can feel drool dripping down his hand when the sharp edge presses down on him.

He moves the blade down and towards himself, not hard enough to draw blood but still enough to tear through the first layers of skin. Taeyong waits, shakes in anticipation as he listens to his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, fingers clenching into a tighter fist. And then the blade digs into his skin, a ribbon of warm liquid slowly running down his back and Doyoung is quick to move along, doesn’t press on for too long in order not to cause serious injuries.

The smell of iron fills him up, watches as the red liquid runs down the blade and drips into his once pristine white sheets. He has half a mind not to bend down and lick the wound, pulls the knife towards himself once again and a shiver runs down his spine when Taeyong moans so loud his throat buzzes against his hand.

“Stay with me,” he mutters, voice so low it’s barely a whisper as he glides the knife again in a different spot. Taeyong groans, whimpers with the burn of being cut and loudly moans again when more blood runs down his back.

Doyoung loosens his grip on the other’s neck but doesn’t let go, a sharp intake of breath making Taeyong’s body shudder and Doyoung is quick to lift the blade off him as he trembles from head to toe. He waits, waits to see if Taeyong is going to safe word out but he doesn’t, digs his toes into the mattress and just drools onto Doyoung’s hand. He moves on to the other side, watches as the blade slits his skin open and he is the one moaning this time, blood collecting at his thumb on the knife handle.

It’s fascinating, Doyoung notes to himself, to watch Taeyong shudder under his touch, moaning so loud it reverberates on his walls and washes over and into his body, sending sparks of pleasure through every bit of him. He closes the knife and puts it down, tightens his grip around Taeyong’s neck once again and pulls him closer. His back is flush against his stomach and Doyoung can feel the blood smear against his skin, Taeyong’s soft moans making him dizzy.

“Stay with me,” he repeats, watches as Taeyong runs his tongue on his lower lip and tries to keep himself together. He tightens his grip again and Taeyong gasps, loudly, squirms so hard to try and rid himself of the ropes it almost makes Doyoung laugh. He lowers his body until his lips brush against the other’s ear, nibbles on the soft skin and runs his bloodied thumb on his lower lip. Taeyong moans again, opens up to him and licks the pad of his finger gently before sucking on it.

Doyoung lets go of his neck again, too lost on the way Taeyong’s tongue works on his finger like his life depends on it. He’s whimpering, softly moaning around him and he pulls the digit out just to shove his index and middle finger in instead. Taeyong drools around him, body still shaking as he tries to catch his breath and all Doyoung can think of is how fucking _hot_ he looks pressed against him like that. He runs his free hand over his hair, lets his fingers dip in and comb through the pink locks and Taeyong all but mewls under him.

He closes his fingers around the locks, pulls Taeyong’s head back and the elder lets a loud moan out when he slips his fingers past his lips, mouth hanging open as, Doyoung figures, he looks up at him. He smears the spit on his fingers over his cheek, grips tight around his face to make him keep it open and looks over at him once more. He loves it, turning Taeyong into a compliant mess. He lets spit pool into his mouth, spits it out and watches as it strings down and into Taeyong’s open mouth. Taeyong moans, pushes his tongue out and Doyoung takes it as an invitation to do it again.

“You’re such a filthy fucking _mess_ ,” Doyoung groans, does it again and the way Taeyong whines has him shaking to his core. He pushes Taeyong off himself so forcefully the boy loses his balance and falls on his side on the mattress. His whole body shakes every now and then and it takes a minute for Doyoung to collect himself, the blood smeared on the boy’s back and on his own stomach making his dick pulse so hard it hurts.

“I’m gonna untie you now,” he says, voice firm and a warning, and the way Taeyong barely responds to his voice sets him off a little. He shifts in bed, crawls over to where Taeyong is facing and as soon as he lays a hand on the rope tied around his wrists Taeyong flinches. “You can safe word out,” he reminds him as he runs his fingers over the black knots.

“ _Grass_ ,” Taeyong mumbles, mouth hung open as he drools onto the mattress and that is all Doyoung needed to be sure he can keep going.

His fingers work on his arms first, gently unties the tight knots around the wrists and watches as the rope falls down his legs. The skin is bruised where it was in contact with the material and it’s hard for Doyoung to hold back a moan once the rope is completely off his arms and the skin is covered in purple diamond shapes. Taeyong moves them around, rubs over the bruised skin and softly moans when his fingers press into darker spots. Doyoung unties his legs, watches in amusement as the boy’s thighs tremble when he stretches them out and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to touch the blackening bruises.

“You like it, don’t you?” he murmurs, palms smoothing over Taeyong’s skin and he doesn’t have the energy to try and hold back a moan when Taeyong’s muscles flex under him.

“I love them,” he whispers, turns on his back and hisses when the wounds on his shoulders make contact with the fabric. His body is pliant, malleable under Doyoung’s hands and Doyoung can see his cock twitch and his body shake when he wraps his hand around his thigh and gives him a firm squeeze. When he speaks again, his voice is a whine and Doyoung feels his heart thump loudly against his ears. “Fuck me, _daddy_.”

Doyoung pulls him down his bed by the thighs and Taeyong gasps as his body slides down, Doyoung’s eyes quickly running over the blood stains on his sheets as he reaches for the blindfold around Taeyong’s head. “I’m gonna take this off,” he warns the elder and the other nods, fingers grasping onto the sheets tightly in anticipation.

He unties the knot on the blindfold and puts his hand over Taeyong’s eyes before letting it slip off completely, a gasp slipping off Taeyong’s lips when light seeps through his fingers and reach his sensitive eyes. Doyoung waits for him to adjust, moves it off when the boy nuzzles up into his hand and his first look at his face knocks the air out of his lungs.

His eyelashes are clumped together, the corner of his eyes wet and the look in his eyes is absolutely dark and dirty. There is spit on his lips and down his chin, and when he lets his tongue run over his bottom lip it sets Doyoung off. He opens his mouth up and Doyoung pushes two fingers in again, watches as Taeyong sucks on them like it’s his job, moans when he swirls his tongue around them and Doyoung presses down on his tongue by instinct.

Taeyong gags and he watches in fascination as he coughs back too much spit and it collects at the corners of his mouth and runs down his chin. He presses down again, further down and harder, and Taeyong’s gagging has him tearing up and nearly puking before he pulls away entirely. Taeyong coughs again so hard it leaves him breathless, chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath again.

Doyoung climbs on top of him, straddles his sides as he grabs his dick and strokes himself a couple times. He’s sensitive and it almost hurt to do so, a moan building up his chest when Taeyong licks his lips again and opens his mouth up to him in an invitation. He doesn’t have to think twice, rubs the head of his cock over Taeyong’s spit-slicked lips and the moan that comes out of his mouth when Taeyong takes it in and smugly sucks around it is louder than he expected.

Taeyong still is the best head he’s ever gotten, he notes as he eases his cock into his mouth with far too much ease. He cradles his finger through his hair and holds on tight, holds his head in place and his entire body shakes when Taeyong moans around his cock. He looks down at him and Taeyong is staring right back up at him, eyes completely blissed out and Doyoung thrusts all the way into his mouth until the tip of his dick hits the back of his throat.

Taeyong gags again, drools so much he’s unable to keep it in and it fascinates Doyoung to watch it overflow from his mouth in such ungraceful fashion. He lays his tongue flat on the underside of his cock, lets his throat relax and encourages Doyoung to keep going through short, consecutive moans around him. It makes him tear up, Doyoung pushing further down his throat but he loves it, loves the feeling of having his mouth so full he can’t even do anything else. And Doyoung knows it, throws his head back because he can’t bear to see the absolutely filthy look on Taeyong’s face as he deepthroats him.

He pulls back, Taeyong gasping around him when he barely leaves the tip inside his mouth before thrusting back in again, hard. Taeyong makes a mess of himself, whines and moans and trashes about when Doyoung doesn’t let go of his hair, keeps his head in place as he relentlessly fucks into his mouth. He can’t stop drooling all over himself and it turns Doyoung on, to fuck the bad attitude out of him.

Doyoung pulls out and he can see Taeyong’s eyes lose focus as he lets his lungs take in some much needed fresh air, the fingers grasping the sheets so tightly shaking with every breath in. He mockingly coos at him, lets go of his locks to cradle through his hair again only to briefly lift his hand and let it fall to the other’s cheek with a loud slap. Taeyong gasps, loud, and it quickly turns into a moan once the sting sinks into his skin.

Doyoung giggles, moves down Taeyong’s body until he is face level with his crotch and the way Taeyong attempts to close his legs around him makes him giggle even more. He holds his thighs with strong hands and spreads his legs further apart, making the other squirm under his touch once again. He nuzzles on his thigh, nibbles on the soft, sensitive skin and the whimper Taeyong lets out makes him bite on the skin even harder. He watches as Taeyong reaches for the improvised, bloodied bandage around his hand and undoes it with newfound determination.

His hand is soaked in blood from having him closing his fists so tightly, the wounds still dripping red when he lifts his hand up and watches the blood drip down to his stomach. They moan at the same time, Doyoung reaching up to the smooth skin of his stomach to smear it across him and Taeyong moans again, louder. He bites down on Taeyong’s thigh again and this time his teeth leave purple imprints to go along with the diamond shapes that stain his skin.

He hesitantly blows against Taeyong’s rim and Taeyong mewls, spreads his legs further apart and Doyoung runs a bloody finger against him. He leans in, licks over his pucker and the iron taste of blood is light on his tongue, and as much as he hates to admit it he loves it. He looks up at Taeyong and nearly chokes when he sees him push two of his bloody fingers past his lips.

Doyoung spits on him, lets it run down against his rim before bending down and licking it back up, gently swirling his tongue against him and Taeyong moans around his own fingers. He licks him up again, slowly, loves the way Taeyong sounds moaning underneath him, could come from that alone wasn’t for his dedication to make the most out of it. He moves away and off bed for a moment to get the lube at his bedside table and Taeyong nearly cries for him, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and Doyoung has to shush him up for him to stay quiet.

“Why are you always so fucking _desperate_ to get some dick?” he groans as he gets back into bed, pulling him down by the legs again and he doesn’t reply. He sets the bottle aside and gets back to his original position, nuzzles on his crotch and Taeyong moans loudly as a response.

He licks his pucker again, laps on the skin over and over and he absolutely _adores_ how he can feel Taeyong crumble down underneath him. It’s music to his ears, the way the moans gradually get louder with every lick he gives him, and when Doyoung finally pushes his tongue past his rim, he can feel Taeyong’s body violently shudder. His cock is dripping precum and it pools on his stomach right below his navel, fingers playing with it and mixing it with blood. It’s gross, how Taeyong licks his fingers up and yet Doyoung loves it, how it sends shivers down his spine.

Doyoung fucks into him with his tongue, steady and precise and Taeyong’s thighs tense up as he tries hard not to close his legs around Doyoung’s head. Taeyong is warm around his tongue and Doyoung loves how he contracts around him every time he pushes it back in. He licks him up once more, licks over his perineum and Taeyong almost screams, moan fading into what seems like a sob and Doyoung swiftly reaches for the bottle of lube.

He kisses Taeyong’s inner thighs, licks and nibbles on the skin as he coats his fingers with the cherry flavored gel. He trails his tongue from his thigh to his crotch and to his balls, licks along his dick and the way he trembles under his tongue feels all too rewarding. He licks over the head and watches as Taeyong leaves his mouth hung open in a silent moan, keeps drooling all over his chin when Doyoung moves down on him and licks his balls again.

Doyoung takes one into his mouth and sucks on it, hums around him at the same time he rubs a cold, slick finger against his rim. He moves down again, gives an open mouth kiss to Taeyong’s pucker that makes his chest tremble with a loud moan. He fucks him with his tongue once again and he can feel his own cock leak even more precum when he pushes the finger past the tight rim.

He keeps pushing without stopping up to the second knuckle, licks around him to ease the discomfort and when Taeyong doesn’t stop him from moving, he pushes all the way down until he’s got all of his finger in. He spits on his rim again, licks it up before kissing his inner thigh once more. Taeyong curls his toes, digs his heels into the mattress, and Doyoung takes the hand that finds its way into his hair a sign to keep going.

So he moves his finger inside him slowly, crooks it a couple times before pulling it back and thrusting it back in. His pace is steady, unlike the messy kisses he leaves all over Taeyong’s thighs and against his rim. Taeyong grips his hair tighter and he picks the pace up, fucks him open in a way he is so familiar with it should be kind of embarrassing. When Taeyong whines and grips his hair tighter again, he inserts another digit in.

It’s a stretch and Taeyong feels tight around him, and he knows the boy is trying to relax his body by the way his breathing comes out labored and ragged. He doesn’t push past the first knuckle, waits for him to adjust, licks the mess under his navel that makes Taeyong moan again.

“You’re so fucking _hot_ ,” he mutters, lips pressed against the soft skin of his stomach and over the pooled precum and blood, and Taeyong whimpers to the sound of his raspy voice, “you filthy little bitch.”

He keeps pushing in, scissoring his fingers in the process to further stretch him up and Taeyong nearly hiccups at it. He pauses, looks over at him and waits, but Taeyong isn’t giving any sign he wants him to stop. So he keeps going, deeper until he is all the way in again. Taeyong is panting under him, gasping whenever he so much as adjusts his digits inside him and Doyoung moans when he clenches his walls around his fingers.

“Please,” Taeyong gasps when Doyoung pulls his fingers back while spreading them apart. He looks up at him, licks around his navel and Taeyong shudders again, claws at his own neck and chest in utter despair, coherent words lost amidst desperate moans. “Please, _please_ –”

Doyoung doesn’t stop moving, smirks up at him and he is sure if Taeyong could even function and look down at him he would shove him away and find a way to wipe the smirk off his lips. He can’t, though, and Doyoung giggles again when he picks up the pace and it almost has Taeyong sobbing under him. He noses his belly, goes further up and between each of his rib and whether Taeyong twitches from that or the fingers curling up inside him Doyoung can’t bring himself to care. “I’ll need you to be more specific,” he mutters, lips resting right below his heart.

Taeyong’s heart thumps rapidly against his ribcage and Doyoung’s lips, and the younger can feel how hard he struggles to come back to his senses. He fails, mumbles a string of incoherent words every time Doyoung thrusts his fingers back in and when he curls them a certain way Doyoung can feel his cock ooze against him.

Taeyong’s moans are loud and the image of him wrecked, lips parted and shiny with spit and his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead is something Doyoung is sure will be imprinted on his brain for a lifetime. He presses against Taeyong’s prostate again and he knows by the way his body shakes he is going to come soon if he keeps this up. He doesn’t prolong it, scissors him up for as long as it’s needed so he can add another finger in and when he does, Taeyong fastens his fingers around his hair and pulls so hard Doyoung can feel some of it being ripped out.

Three fingers are a stretch and he knows, waits until Taeyong practically sits back on his fingers and moans for him to keep going. He closes his eyes, tries to focus on the task at hand and not the way Taeyong clenches around him, the way his fingers tighten around his hair, the way he swallows down a moan of his own that builds up his chest or the way his cock twitches against his sheets every time Taeyong lets out the tiniest noises.

Taeyong spreads his legs further apart, little droplets of tears starting to brim over the corners of his eyes. Doyoung asks him if he is okay, and all he gets as an answer from him is a whimper and a shiver that runs through his body. Doyoung smirks and slowly pulls his fingers out, Taeyong’s walls clenching around them trying to adjust. He waits for a while, letting him adjust to the size before he starts thrusting again, dead on his prostate this time and he has never seen Taeyong being so loud before.

He runs his tongue over Taeyong’s nipple, pert and sensitive and it pleases him too much to hear the boy constantly whine as he fucks him open. He lets his tongue dance around, teeth softly nibbling at it and that has Taeyong nearly kneeing him in the guts as a reflex. Taeyong yanks at his hair, pulls him up and towards his neck and Doyoung is all too eager to kiss it up, bite him down and leave new bruises along with the old, faded ones.

He leaves open-mouthed kisses over the expanse of his skin, laps up on the saltiness of his sweat, hums against his adam’s apple when the other swallows thickly as he pushes his fingers deeper inside him. He keeps kissing him up, kisses under his jaw and up to his ear, nibbles on the soft skin and deeply moans when Taeyong moves his body further down the bed, making his fingers press up deeper into him.

Doyoung kisses Taeyong full on the lips, all tongue and clashing teeth and it’s so messy but he can’t bring himself to care, not when Taeyong’s moans spill into his mouth and he swallows it all down, loves the way Taeyong’s tongue is hot against his. It’s too wet, Taeyong’s excessive drooling making a mess of them but he likes it all the same, rejoices on the way his tongue falters when he spreads his fingers out inside him to fuck him open even further.

He only stops his ministrations when Taeyong can’t do anything but whimper and moan beneath him, body shaking in what most likely is overstimulation, tongue and lips no longer able to kiss him back and Doyoung smiles to himself at the mess he’s made of the boy under him. He pulls his fingers out, wipes them clean on the sheets before trailing kisses back down the boy’s body, light and delicate but also harsh and demanding that leaves hickeys on its wake.

He lingers on his stomach again, kisses the red-stained skin too eagerly, sighs in contentment when Taeyong reaches down to his face with his wounded hand. He leans into the touch, turns to face the palm of his hand and the hiss Taeyong lets out when he nuzzles on it is barely audible. He pecks the skin, soft butterfly kisses that press into the wounds, licks the smeared blood and almost moans when Taeyong presses the tips of two fingers against his lips.

He takes them in, sucks on them with fervor and the taste on his tongue is heavier than it has ever been. Taeyong moans when he swirls his tongue around his fingers, tongues between them and gags when Taeyong presses down on him in similar fashion to what Doyoung did to him moments before. Only that Taeyong keeps pressing down, harder, and by the way his fingers curl Doyoung figures it’s from arousal. He grabs him by the wrist and pulls back until the fingers slip out of his mouth and he coughs a bit, feeling like he will puke any second until his body stops involuntarily gagging altogether.

Squeezing the cold lube over his dick and stroking it to spread it out feels like torture and almost has him tipping over the edge, stomach recoiling from being touched for the first time since it all started and Doyoung can’t help the moans that roll off his tongue every time his fist goes down to the base. He takes his time, partly because he is probably going to come if he pumps himself too fast but also because Taeyong looks absolutely gorgeous before him, trashing and whining and moaning and nearly _sobbing_ for him to get going.

He doesn’t bother wiping his hand clean, reaches for the discarded blindfold and moves up to be face-level with Taeyong once again. Doyoung strokes his cheek, taps on him until Taeyong opens his eyes and looks up at him. His eyes are unfocused and he has a hard time keeping them open, and when Doyoung talks to him he notices he is a little breathless.

“Are you with me?” he tries, and it takes several moments for Taeyong to finally nod back at him. He holds the boy’s face up, grip tight around his face and tries again. “I need you to answer me.”

Taeyong licks his lips nervously, squints hard in an attempt to focus, the words getting caught in his throat. Doyoung waits, searches for any sign of discomfort, and when he loosens his grip on Taeyong’s face he feels the other reach out to him. Taeyong holds his wrist in place, voice barely a whisper when he says, “grass.”

Doyoung lets go of him, gently slips the blindfold around his neck and when it looks exactly how he wants, ties it up in a tight knot. It looks like a leash and something inside him stirs, the fabric pulling the skin taught and Taeyong moans under the pressure. He scoots back and pulls on it until Taeyong’s back isn’t touching the bed anymore, leans in to lick across his cheek, smiles when Taeyong tries to push him away and fails.

Doyoung switches places with him, sits back and Taeyong nearly topples over him, limbs too weak to hold him up in bed. Doyoung lets his back rest against the pillows by the headboard, makes himself comfortable before tugging on the blindfold around Taeyong’s neck again. He keeps tugging on the fabric over and over, makes him crawl to him until his thighs are glued to Doyoung’s, straddling him. He sits back on Doyoung’s thighs, grips at his hips, nails digging into Doyoung’s skin so hard it leaves moon shaped dents on him.

He lets go of the blindfold, holds him by the hips and lifts him up until it registers on Taeyong’s brain. Taeyong reaches down, holds his dick steady by the base and it takes all of Doyoung’s willpower not to come right then and there. He holds his breath, shakes in anticipation when Taeyong guides the tip of his cock to his rim and Taeyong is shaking too, fingers closing tighter around him with each passing second.

Taeyong moans, loud, the sound echoing in his room and shaking Doyoung to the core once Doyoung pushes him down slightly and the tip pushes past his pucker to a snug fit. And Doyoung moans, too, the feeling of being wrapped by such tight heat all but too much for him to handle. He guides Taeyong down, watches as the boy’s entire body shakes every time more of his cock is pushed in, lips parted and drool dripping down his chin and onto Doyoung’s stomach.

Doyoung only stops pushing Taeyong down once he is balls deep inside him, Taeyong’s thighs shaking from the strain of keeping himself together where they press against Doyoung. He moans, body toppling over, hands splayed over Doyoung’s chest to keep himself up and Doyoung reaches for the blindfold around his neck once again. He tugs on it yet again, pulls Taeyong forward with so much force he can see the fabric dig into his neck, skin red around the edges and Taeyong whines when he is forced down.

The movement makes Taeyong slide up his dick and he takes the opportunity to bend his knees and plant his feet flat on the bed, the hand still on Taeyong’s hip making him slide out even further until only the tip fits inside him. He tightens the grip on the blindfold and slowly thrusts up, the slow slide and clench of Taeyong’s walls around him making him moan too loudly in an attempt to calmly breathe out.

Taeyong shakes and whines on top of him and it takes him by surprise when his whole body tenses up and is followed by a strong shudder, and then Taeyong is coming over his stomach, covering his skin in hot, thick cum. He can see Taeyong’s skin tint in a deep shade of red from his chest all the way up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears when he keeps coming, waves of shock shooting down his spine and nails digging into Doyoung’s flesh. It might be too soon but Doyoung knows it’s uncharacteristic of Taeyong to be embarrassed by such thing, seeing as it has happened time and time again and it intrigues him even further.

Taeyong has tears in his eyes when he stops coming, body still shaking as Doyoung keeps thrusting into him, relentless with every thrust against his clenching walls. Doyoung pulls him forward again by the blindfold until his body rests on top of him, chest flat on his and dick pressed against him. Doyoung knows he is bordering overstimulation and he loves it, loves listening to every whine and whimper and feeling Taeyong shudder in his hold every time he thrusts into him, as hard as the position will let him.

The sound of his hips slapping against Taeyong’s ass is only drowned out by their moans, the feeling of Taeyong being so tight around him and having his cum being squished and moved around on his stomach with every thrust making his head spin and his heart race. Taeyong pushes himself up, holds himself with his hands flat against Doyoung again and Doyoung can see the effort he is putting to push himself to his knees only to sink back down a moment later. He moans, thighs quivering and heart pounding against his ribcage and it feels too good, Doyoung’s hand squeezing his hip so hard it bruises.

Doyoung pulls out and flips them around once Taeyong can’t keep his ministrations up, exhaustion and maybe the alcohol catching up on him as he starts getting unresponsive. Doyoung presses him down into the mattress, holds him in place and thrusts back inside him, roughly this time and it’s almost funny how they moan in perfect sync. The position is much better for both of them and Taeyong all but spreads his legs as far as they will go, fingers grasping onto the sheets until his knuckles go white once Doyoung starts pounding into him.

He tries to hold back as much as he can until Taeyong’s moans are just a string of incoherent sounds mixed with some whimpering and his hair is dripping wet from sweat, Taeyong’s dick hard again from being fucked over overstimulation and leaving him extremely sensitive. Every time Doyoung’s stomach brushes against his hard dick he cries out, trashes about and it only eggs Doyoung further. He can feel his hips hitting against the bones on Taeyong’s ass and he knows both of them are going to be bruised the next morning, a smile creeping up his face at the thought.

It’s the way Taeyong clenches around him and cries out his name with every thrust that sends him over and makes him lose it, makes the knot in his stomach tighten until he feels dizzy and his vision starts to blurry. He fucks harder into Taeyong, the movements pushing the boy further up the bed until his head almost hits the headboard. When Doyoung comes, it’s with a loud grunt and he is buried balls deep into the elder, shock making him black out for a minute.

He comes too much and too hard, rides his own orgasm by continuously fucking into Taeyong, cum overflowing from his ass and making a mess of his dick and the sheets. The feeling is getting too much but he doesn’t stop, bends down to nuzzle on Taeyong’s cheek as the boy whimpers and moans his name out until he can’t handle it anymore. Both his hands reach for Taeyong’s wrists where they are holding onto a pillow under his head and he raises them up further, stretches Taeyong’s arms out and pins them right above his head.

When his hips still and his vision comes back into focus, Doyoung sees them for the first time, the scars on Taeyong’s arms and it hits him like a truck, leaves him disoriented and all but breathless. He traces his thumbs over them and Taeyong shakes under his touch, tries to pull away but Doyoung holds him firmly in place. Taeyong whines louder, squirms harder when he bends down and his lips are almost touching the scarred skin.

He places a gentle kiss to his forearm and then another, and another and Taeyong’s whimpering turns into sobbing, loud and violent every time Doyoung’s lips comes in contact with his skin. It takes Doyoung aback and then Taeyong’s hand is flying to his shoulder, fingers shaking when he grips him down and then, just a second later, two taps.

Doyoung immediately stops and peels away from him, pulls out and closes Taeyong’s legs for him. The boy is in complete distress, uncontrollable sobs powering their way through his body and Doyoung panics, quickly undoes the blindfold around his neck.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice laced with fear and concern. He reaches up to his arms to bring them down and Taeyong flinches away from him, holding them close to his body and Doyoung’s heart pangs in his chest a little. “Hey, stay with me,” he tries again, keeping his voice firm despite anything. “Did I hurt you?”

Taeyong shakes his head no, turns to the side and curls into himself. Doyoung tries to get closer again, and when the boy doesn’t react against it, he gently lays his hand on top of his head. He runs his fingers through the pink locks until the sobbing tunes down a little, lies right in front of him and pulls him closer. He can feel Taeyong black out under him, keeps him pressed as close to him as possible until his body stops shaking.

“It’s alright,” Doyoung reassures him, hand resting on the back of his head, fingers playing with his hair. “It’s over now, I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

He holds Taeyong close, mindless words trying to talk him back to his senses, fingers gentle against his skin and into his hair. It takes him a while, body occasionally shaking, quiet sobs bubbling up his chest and yet he doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes and Doyoung starts to get a little concerned. He leans in, places a tender kiss on Taeyong’s forehead and he stirs a little, eyes slowly fluttering open and Doyoung almost sighs in relief.

Doyoung smiles down at him, caresses his cheek with a careful hand, throws his arm around him to hug him close and Taeyong whimpers into his chest, wet lashes tickling his skin as his eyes flutter close again. He can’t seem to keep himself awake and all Doyoung can do is wait, holds him in place and hopes his heartbeat against Taeyong’s cheek will somehow calm him down.

“Hey,” Doyoung tries, an attempt to check if Taeyong can hear him, and when the boy moves his face against his chest a little, he continues, “you did well, it’s alright now. You suffer so beautifully.”

His voice is rough and no more than a whisper and Taeyong mewls in response. He continues.

“You really turned me on,” he tucks the pink strands behind his ear and Taeyong leans into the touch. It’s hard for Doyoung to understand how someone who is usually so bratty and has a hard time listening to others can react like this. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside him and, if Doyoung is being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to switch it back if he has the choice. “I love the sounds you make, every one of them.”

Taeyong whines louder and he chuckles in response. He can feel Taeyong’s heart beat rapidly against him, runs a hand down his lower back to try and soothe him down.

“You look so great with the blindfold,” his voice is gentle and he can feel Taeyong slowly coming back to his senses again with the way he tries to move around. “You look incredible when you’re tied up, I love it so much.”

He pauses, bites his tongue and tries to will an anxiety attack away when Taeyong doesn’t react immediately. But then he opens his eyes again, looks up at Doyoung and Doyoung can feel the air get caught in his throat, his stomach knotting so tightly it feels like he is going to throw up. Taeyong is a mess, disheveled and his face is stained with tears, lips red and raw from biting and he holds himself back from leaning in to kiss him.

And maybe he is too caught up in his own thoughts, because he barely registers Taeyong leaning in on his own and locking their lips together. It’s wet and nice and he sighs into him, his hand going from the small of his back to his face to cup his cheek and hold him in place for a while. He doesn’t try to lick his way in and neither does Taeyong, enjoys the way it feels to be just like this, doesn’t try to pressure or rush the elder in any way.

“I hope I didn’t go too far,” he says once Taeyong pulls away, and Doyoung registers the way his cheeks blush a pretty shade of red, eyes still somewhat unfocused.

“You were great,” Taeyong whispers, voice straining and Doyoung quickly hushes him to stop him from tiring himself out for the time being. He answers him with a smile instead, places another kiss to his forehead and Taeyong nearly clings to him.

“Do you wanna go take a bath?” he can feel Taeyong stiffen under him and is quick to add on, “I’ll help you out, I just need to know if you want to.”

Taeyong hesitantly nods and peeling himself off him is almost a struggle with the way Taeyong’s hands hold on to his biceps and doesn’t let go. He reassures the boy that it really is okay to let go and that he is not going anywhere, and it’s only when he looks Taeyong straight into the eyes that the other lets go of him. Standing on his feet makes his head spin for a moment, heart beating loudly against his ears as his body quickly recovers from a sugar drop.

He takes a look at his surroundings, his bed and Taeyong on top of it and everything is a mess, from the clothes scattered all over his floor to the blood stains on his sheets and the overall mess Taeyong is, cum sticking to his stomach and blood staining a good expanse of his skin. He motions for Taeyong to scoot closer to the edge of the mattress but the boy doesn’t. And it’s not because he doesn’t want to, Doyoung knows it, can see the physical effort he tries to put into moving his body but it just doesn’t respond to him.

So he almost climbs back into bed, pulls Taeyong’s body until it is where he wants to and hooks his arm under his legs and around his back. Picking Taeyong up is easy and, for the first time, Doyoung notices how light the boy actually is and is afraid he is going to break him in half. Taeyong immediately rests his head on the crook of his neck, puffs of hot air sending shivers down Doyoung’s back as he tells him it’s okay to keep his eyes closed for now. His body gets a little heavier as soon as he says that and Doyoung is almost sure he has fallen back asleep, smiles to himself and holds his body closer to him.

He walks into his bathroom, sits Taeyong on the edge on his bathtub against the wall and crouches down beside him, holds him in place with one hand and reaches for the faucet with the other. Taeyong is groggily looking down at him and Doyoung throws him a smile, a reassuring hand on his hip squeezing him gently until he half smiles back down at him. Doyoung checks if the water isn’t too hot, runs it until the tub is half full before turning it off entirely. He gets back on his feet, picks Taeyong up again and Taeyong yelps in surprise from being snapped out of his trance.

He lowers him down into the water and gently lets go of him, watches as Taeyong curls into himself for a few moments before finally allowing himself to relax. Doyoung kneels down next to the tub, rests his arm and his head on the edge as he watches Taeyong carefully and with intent. Taeyong brings his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around his legs and stares blankly into the water surrounding him. Doyoung hums at him, encourages him to keep moving and he does, carefully unwraps his arms and gently taps the water. Doyoung smiles.

“How was it?” Doyoung asks him, dancing around his words as he reaches for the shower head and turns it on. It startles Taeyong when he water hits the wall and Doyoung mentally curses himself for turning it on too strong. “Do you think you can answer me?”

Taeyong only stares at him, eyes still not fully into focus and Doyoung hums, followed by a muttered _alright_ in response; he is not going to pressure Taeyong into talking if he isn’t ready to. He turns the water down and runs it over Taeyong’s back, barely audible whines building up his throat as he tries to move away but doesn’t have enough energy to. He lets it wash over the cuts on his shoulder blades, lets the water cleanse most of the blood off without him having to touch it.

He puts the shower head back into place and focuses on Taeyong’s hand instead. He holds him by the wrist, firmly when Taeyong tries to retract and he has to fight the urge to smack him on the forehead when he keeps trying to pull it back even when Doyoung says he only wants to clean it.

“It’s not my fault you broke that damn glass out of anger!” he half yells and Taeyong immediately curls into himself. Doyoung takes a deep breath and sighs in exasperation. “I’m just trying to take care of you, dumbass. Let me, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Taeyong keeps whining after giving in, the water making the cuts sting, a contrast to how gentle Doyoung works his fingers over them. He washes it thoroughly, makes sure all the blood stains are off and that there isn’t any glass inside them, tries to keep washing it over until it stops bleeding again. When it doesn’t work he tells Taeyong to just keep it underwater until he is done washing him up and Taeyong nods at him. He finishes cleansing the cuts on his shoulders and almost elbows Taeyong on the neck by accident while trying to move around, apologizes countless times when the elder whines at him from the scare.

He cleans the cum off his stomach once he manages to get Taeyong to uncurl himself from his own body, soaps him up with his favorite peach bodywash and he absolutely adores how Taeyong smiles at himself. He leaves his pink hair for last, takes extra care with not getting shampoo into his eyes and once he is done, he pushes Taeyong’s hair out of his face and Doyoung has to admit he looks absolutely stunning.

Doyoung picks him out of the water, sits him on a clean, spread towel on top of his sink and places yet another kiss to his forehead.

“Can you wait here for just a moment?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers over the soft skin of his cheek and when Taeyong looks at him with big, questioning eyes, he proceeds, “I just need to wash up real quick.”

Taeyong nods, sits back and stares down at his fingers and Doyoung gives him another kiss to the forehead before getting into the shower himself. He really doesn’t take long, washes the blood stains off his stomach and cheeks, doesn’t bother washing his own hair just for the sake of being quick. He can do it in the morning anyway, doesn’t want to leave Taeyong waiting for too long.

Once he dries himself off and turns back to look at Taeyong he sees him still staring down at his hand, only this time he watches as the blood runs down his skin and drips onto the white towel, not really doing anything to stop it. Doyoung sighs, slips into a clean pair of boxers before walking over to him. He takes Taeyong’s wrist in his hand again and Taeyong startles again, tries to retract by reflex but stops once he realizes it’s Doyoung who’s in front of him.

“Why aren’t you trying to stop it from bleeding?” Doyoung questions him, trying to mask any hint of annoyance as he holds his hand up. He reaches for one end of the towel and Taeyong shrugs.

“I like it, I guess,” he tries to sound nonchalant but his voice barely comes out, hisses when Doyoung presses the towel into his palm.

“This isn’t a joke, I’m trying to take care of you.” Doyoung nags, lets the towel fall before reaching for another one to finish drying Taeyong up. It’s almost like drying a puppy after a shower and Doyoung struggles to suppress a smile, a pout creeping its way up Taeyong’s lips. He sets the towel aside, nudges Taeyong’s legs open and spreads his arms open at him. “Come.”

It’s almost cute, how Taeyong wraps his legs around his torso and his arms around his neck, Doyoung’s hands holding him by the thighs before lifting him off the sink. He walks them back into his room, places Taeyong on his bed again and when he suggests changing the sheets to clean ones Taeyong tells him no.

He leaves for a moment despite Taeyong’s very whiny and bratty protests, goes into the kitchen to get him some water and chocolate and grabs his first-aid kit on the way back into his room. When he walks back in Taeyong is sitting in the middle of his bed, legs crossed as he holds his right hand up above his head. Doyoung laughs, struggling to hold so many things at once and still keep his balance.

“Here, take this,” he says as he offers Taeyong the glass of water and the boy eagerly accepts it, downs all its content in one go, sighs in what seems to be relief to have his throat washed down. He sees the chocolate in his hand before Doyoung can even offer it and is quick to snatch it off from him, rests his wounded hand on top of his head to give his own arm a break while he munches on the chocolate. He almost looks like a kid and Doyoung holds back the urge to pat him on the head. Instead, he takes his hand in his again. “Let me take care of his, it’s bleeding again.”

Taeyong nods as he takes another bite of the chocolate and Doyoung finally sits down in front of him. He opens his kit and takes out a bunch of gauze, piles them up and presses them down into Taeyong’s hand and the boy whines but doesn’t try to retract again. Doyoung keeps pressing down, the blood seeping through the material, runs through an entire pack until he feels it’s safe to bandage it up. He reaches for a roll of sterile bandages and wraps it around his hand, tries to do a neat work and Taeyong hums in contentment once he looks over at it.

“Turn around, let me do your back now.”

He nods at him again, turns around in place with his chocolate hanging off his mouth, trying not to hold his weight on his newly bandaged hand. The cuts on his back aren’t as bad and Doyoung has to admit it does look pretty. He cleans them up once more, gauzes them up in stripes and once he is done, places a kiss on top of Taeyong’s spine and the boy giggles as he wiggles in place.

“Come here,” Doyoung commands, and when Taeyong turns around to look at him he has his arms open at him in an invitation. He nods him over, a clear order that Taeyong follows with not much resistance. He slots himself between Doyoung’s legs, rests his weight against his chest and Doyoung wraps his arms around him in a comfortable hug. “How was it? Did you like it?”

Taeyong nods but doesn’t really say anything, rests his head against Doyoung’s shoulder and Doyoung sighs. He runs his hand through Taeyong’s damp hair, holds him there and he can feel Taeyong’s body almost shaping itself around him.

“Are you sore?” he tries again, fingers tracing where the blindfold clung around his neck and Taeyong whines and nods again, still not saying anything. He runs his fingers where the rope left darkening marks and he can feel his throat getting clumped up. “Did the ropes make your hands tingly? Was it too tight?”

“It felt good,” Taeyong says, finally, and Doyoung’s heart skips a beat. “You were amazing, I’m sorry I safe signed out.”

“Hey,” Doyoung moves back to look at him and Taeyong doesn’t meet his eyes, bites at his nail instead and Doyoung can’t help but feel bad. “Don’t apologize. Your safety and well-being is more important than anything else. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay too.”

“Feels weird to be this sober around you,” the other tries to laugh it off and Doyoung silently agrees with him. “I’m okay, at least right now. It just… caught me off guard, I guess. I didn’t think you would, uh,” he coughs, pauses for a long minute before continuing. “Didn’t think you’d pay my scars any attention.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Doyoung reassures him and Taeyong nods, keeps biting his nails and the prolonged silence lets Doyoung know that is all he is going to hear about the topic for now. And he is glad for it, doesn’t think neither him or Taeyong could handle such heavy topics in their current situation.

They stay like that for a while and it’s weird how comfortable it feels, to have Taeyong curled up into his arms in such intimacy he never really thought they would have. But, as Taeyong had said, it’s the first time they have the chance to be together in such sobriety and it does feel weird, though Doyoung definitely doesn’t find himself hating it at all. Taeyong isn’t as annoying when sober and he might like a little too much, how warm he feels in his arms, how his instincts tell him he must protect Taeyong at all costs, he just doesn’t know what from.

Doyoung didn’t consider himself messy with anything in his life before. He likes to tidy everything up, to leave everything in order for every gig his band gets, and most importantly, he will never leave things unresolved with anyone, ever. He isn’t problematic and mostly hates any kind of confrontation, so he always tries to keep himself out of trouble. But, looking back now, Taeyong really walked in and messed it all up, changed his world vision for better and for worse and Doyoung isn’t sure what is right or wrong for him anymore.

What he does know is that the words Taeyong told him earlier at the bar keep playing over and over again in his head.

“Hey,” he speaks up after a stretched moment of silence and Taeyong looks up at him. He bites his bottom lip, chooses his words carefully and prays Taeyong won’t run away. He doesn’t want him to.

“You can, you know… stay the night.” He almost punches himself when he sees Taeyong’s eyes waver. “I mean – every night. You can stay the night every night. You don’t have to go back to… all that. You don’t deserve it.” He pauses, and when Taeyong doesn’t say anything, he tries again. “Stay the night.”

Taeyong curls into him, buries his face in his chest and when Doyoung thinks he won’t get anything out of him, he nods. Once, twice, three times and Doyoung watches as he keeps biting his nails away.

And, for the first time, it doesn’t feel like such a nuisance, like a disaster waiting to happen all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to the demon that got into me on my flight back home for coming up with this idea
> 
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